


Come Undone

by SweetPemberley28



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams vs. Reality, Escape, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Friendship/Love, Getting Back Together, Lost Love, Love, Love Confessions, Making Love, Mutual Pining, Partnership, Past Relationship(s), Post-Career of Evil, Post-Wedding, Reflection, Regret, Self-Discovery, Sex, Truth, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPemberley28/pseuds/SweetPemberley28
Summary: What if Robin decided to leave Matthew after that moment on the stairs with Strike?We’ve all asked it, we’ve all hoped for it, and some of us have written a version of how this would play out; this is mine. A lot of detail from the POV of both characters.There are two Alternate Endings – the first was my original idea, a bit more realistic but sadder. Since we’ve all had a rough enough 2020, I included a second, happier alternate ending. You can decide which route to take or enjoy both perspectives.Enjoy my first Cormoran Strike/Robin Ellacott fanfic!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 17
Kudos: 44





	1. Restoration

**Author's Note:**

> Several references to some of my favorite movies are sprinkled throughout…can you spot them?

Cormoran is perched on the steps outside the church when Robin made her way towards him, leaving Matthew behind with a few wedding guests that include one Sarah Shadlock. 

“In all the weddings in all the world…,” she teased as he raised his head, “…Cormoran Blue Strike walks into mine.” She offered a friendly smile at him, hoping for a proper truce. 

“You look beautiful,” he commented, pushing himself up to stand before her. The remnants of his fight with Laing were over his face and hands, which only seemed to make him more appealing to her while having the opposite effect on everyone else who glanced at him. 

Despite the bruises, the taped ear, and the evident sheer exhaustion, he was quite dashing in his dark suit. She had viewed him as rugged and broody at the beginning of their working relationship, but then adding in his other qualities, she began to see him in that way. It progressed where even his little gestures, slightest expressions, and the tone of his voice would send her heart fluttering. She had chalked it up to being a silly crush; he was her mentor after all and offered her what no one else had or would – a chance at finally becoming an investigator. Or maybe the attraction was in the difference from what she was used to, the latter of which did not make her feel worthy, attractive, or confident. Cormoran did all this and more by just being himself, even when grumpy. 

“I want you back,” he stammered before he lost his nerve. “Come back to work.” This knocked out all sensual thoughts she began to imagine while looking at him.

“You didn’t have to be so dramatic, you know, could’ve just called,” she joked, shrugging off his gesture of arrival as a wedding guest as nothing more than regret for sacking her.

His face serious, “I did. Left several messages and sent a few texts.”

“What?” she asked mystified. 

“Figured you’d blocked me,” he went on as he put his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the lighter and pack of smokes, wanting to devour all of them.

“No, I…,” realization dawned and her eyes fluttered downward before casting an accusatory glance at her husband, who caught its meaning. 

“Right. Would you excuse me, please?” She hastily made her way toward Matthew with a set jaw and determined eyes, leaving Strike alone once more with his thoughts which included underestimating how big of an arsehole her husband truly is.

*****

The reception is in full swing with Robin invisibly shackled to the bridal table. Lost in the truth of what had transpired with her phone, Strike’s calls, and the Shacklewell Ripper having been caught and arrested, she tuned out the festivities including an oblivious Matthew who laughed and carried on like all was well. She managed a snort at his phony display while staring at the plate of food she didn’t want. Yet again, he managed to manipulate her, took advantage of her vulnerability, and made decisions on her behalf without considering her at all. Not that he’d care anyway as he always argued against her whenever she resisted in the slightest. She had willingly married a narcissistic prick, an attribute that was already compounding the minute they were deemed husband and wife, all for the appearance of safety when in actuality, she had been hiding. 

Overwhelmed by these epiphanies, most of which included regret, confusion, and betrayal – not all from Matthew, mind you, for she blamed herself for being so easily led and foolish. She held her injured arm to focus on the physical pain versus the emotional one until she looked up to meet the eyes of the only guest who paid her any mind…

Cormoran.

Strike felt like a prize idiot, a masochistic one at that; coming up here just to see her trod off with that twat after begging her to return to work with him. It was her he wanted to support, regardless of how he felt about her decision to marry said twat because it was her decision, even though now he could see clear as day how unhappy and subdued she appeared. He had to make everything right by her before she went off on her honeymoon.

He scrunched his face at that reminder which sent another pang across his chest. Christ, he couldn’t take that thought more so than the marriage. Whatever power Matthew had over her, Strike didn’t stand a bloody chance breaking that impenetrable force field. Since he wasn’t about to risk being an even bigger twat than that groom of hers even for her, he slumped in his seat and just stared at her like a forlorn puppy.

Robin’s face remained numb and motionless, which hid how she wanted to be close to Strike, to be open about everything with him, even if that meant he rescinded his offer to take her back as a partner. Slightly, her head moved as if talking herself out of that because she loves her job, she wants the agency to succeed, and she doesn’t want to fail him by setting her most-likely-one-sided romantic notions at his feet. She thought she knew where to go; she just didn’t quite know how to get there. She’d been through enough having nearly jeopardized her budding career on Matthew’s behalf, which certainly hadn’t been worth the difficulty, but for Cormoran…

*****

After dinner ended and the tables were cleared to present a dance floor, the DJ called for the bride and groom to have their first dance. Placing the expected smile on her face, she accepted Matthew’s hand as “Wherever You Will Go” played.

Odd choice as it’s a break-up song, Strike thought. Tenner says the twat chose it.

Cormoran loomed behind the circle of guests, slowly walking behind them to watch her in Matthew's arms, not appearing to be as comfortable as a new bride should be at this moment. He couldn’t help but judge her a little, despite his having zero say in her life choices. He doubted she gave a toss what he thought of her outside of work anyway.

Isn’t this a break-up song? Robin wondered. I don’t even recall Matt asking me about this. We never really had a song…

“If I could, then I would, I’d follow wherever you will go…”

She’d known for some time that she wouldn’t follow Matthew down an empty street in broad daylight, but she’d follow Cormoran to the ends of the earth. Had she married Strike instead, they’d be listening to a classic, most likely an oldie, like a handwritten love letter long before digitalization ruined romance. Her neck nearly snapped at that idea and found Strike’s eyes once more as she circled. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have done this. If she had received those messages sooner…

Her eyes kept meeting Strike’s with every turn, conveying a message he couldn’t decipher. Save me? Mourn me? Want me? Love me?

He decided to end this torture, the deeper and wider the pain went the longer he stayed in her orbit around an arsehole to whom she’s now legally bound. Now he had to make a choice which was leaving the reception when her back was turned. _Quick and clean._

That type of guy – posh, tosser, twat, git, arrrrrrrsehooooole - will always win. He wasn’t whole; he was much too old, too poor, and too grumpy with too soft a body. Of course, he never stood a chance!

"Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!" He muttered with various levels of intensity as he made his way down the steps. "Fuck it all to bloody hell!"

He had to overcome this, to get her out of his system, even if meant with a steady flow of alcohol and nicotine. Perhaps he would return to swimming regularly. He’d return to London and bury himself in work, whiskey, and women…not necessarily in that order. He could run through a gauntlet of women, pass out pissed nightly, solve a thousand cases single-handedly, but he knew even that would barely dull the tip of the piercing agony in his heart that was filled with love, respect, and adoration for someone else’s bride. There was no one like her, not even a poor-man’s-Robin; she was an original. But he had to overcome this, he shall!

He had made it halfway down the path to the lot when he heard his name called from behind.

“Cormoran!” 

Without hesitation, he turned to see Robin at the top of the stairs. As he walked towards her, he set as neutral a face with all the bravery he could muster. God, she was breathtaking.

“Are you sure? Sure you want me back?” 

He was far enough away that she missed the slight disappointment cross his face that her inquiry is about the job, not him. He croakily responded, “Yes, I am.”

She carefully descended the stairs as he met her halfway on them. There is a pause, a connecting of eyes, both solemn yet longing. Before he knew it, she wrapped her arms around him, placing her cheek against his. Her eyes closed to memorize his scent, feel the scruff of his beard, and the warmth of his body. Her fingers curled against his shoulder blades and he willed himself not to tighten his hold. Wisps of her hair tickled his nose that breathed in her floral perfume. He squeezed his eyes closed to trap this moment in his permanent memory, storing the bittersweet mood into a tiny, secure box that he would then bury deep inside him, never to retrieve.

He wanted to convince her she could have better by building upon what was already between them. He wanted to confess how he made the terrible mistake to sack her mostly out of spite for her returning to Matthew, for betraying him by using Shanker behind his back, for the fear he was riddled within that she could’ve been killed by one of the men who had a personal vendetta against himself. The guilt of her death on his hands would’ve been his undoing.

She wanted to bury her face in his neck, to breathe him in deeply while confessing how she has thought about nothing but him since he left her flat after being sacked. That losing her job as a partner in a business she loved paled in comparison to the devastation of losing him; a friendship that had become the most important one in her life, the mentorship that revived her with a new life, the example he set for men in general, a pretty high bar at that. Comparatively, she had settled as far as Matthew was concerned by the measure alone, not counting all the ways he dismissed, belittled, manipulated, and handled her throughout their decade long relationship. Cormoran knew her better in a fraction of that time.

Cautiously, they pulled apart, their arms lowered to their sides, their eyes reconnected.

Come away with me, he thinks. 

Ask me to go with you, she thinks. 

Another moment of silence.

He just wants his partner back and besides, he’s too much of a gentleman to steal away a married woman, she contemplates. 

She’s not in any place to run away with me, being a married woman. She’s too loyal and respectable for that, he admits. 

She offers a smile, “I better get back and on with the show. I’ll see you in London then?”

He nods, his voice barely audible as he fought back the next wave of rejection coming to take him under, “I’ll be there.” He takes a step down and then turns back to quip, “With a contract.”

“Right,” she briefly laughs. She turns to go back up the stairs as he descends a final time, stepping onward at a steady pace, finally retrieving a smoke he longed to inhale in one swoop. As she returns to the reception, she watches Cormoran get further away, the pit of her stomach turned as the distance increases while familiar anxiety returns as she steps closer to Matthew, their families, and their “new” life together.


	2. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter from Robin's POV before she makes an official decision.

On her journey back to the reception, Robin felt an internal click, like a switch activating a certainty she wasn’t accustomed to doing outside working for Strike. No doubts, just intuition. She was learning to trust her instincts on the personal level as much as she had with the professional one. 

She looked down at herself in a wedding dress, acknowledging herself a stranger, a fraud. The shedding of this dress, which she barely liked, couldn’t come soon enough. 

Gradually she felt a weight lift, the removal of an invisible skin she’d worn for so long, now releasing her from confinement enabling her to see clearly. Happy tears formed as she bit her lip to stifle the bubbling laughter, but it was too much and escaped. 

And the release felt so good. 

She bellowed out to the stars above and to the flowers around her, her laughter echoing around an empty courtyard as tears fell, relieving tension and hurt. She could practically float from the lightness brought by that inner shift. She had transformed from the Robin she was this morning to the one she was this moment, the true Robin, the one that been waiting to arrive and exist. It was empowering, this identity that had been beaten down into submission practically her whole life, the final blow occurring at Uni. 

Now she had emerged, reborn like a phoenix, and it was past time to shake off the ashes, spread her wings, and fly like a true Robin which she allowed and accepted.

True Robin refused to settle, to give up her dream, to be continually dependent upon a man whose every word and action was conditional and self-serving. She wasn’t going to pretend anymore, to hoover it all under the rug, and just hope that it would all work out on its own. That only made her feel powerless in not having any control or say in any matter where she was concerned. 

No more. 

She had made a decision, on her own, without anyone else’s opinion and she won’t be persuaded otherwise. Not for Matthew, not for Cormoran, but Robin.  
True Robin was going to have her say, to everyone, and if they didn’t like it…well, they could shove their thoughts up their arses. It was time they all realized she wasn’t a fragile piece of glass. 

After all, she had survived a rape before being left for dead, she’d assisted Strike when John Bristow attacked him, she got punched when she tackled Liz Tassel, she confronted Brockbank and saved two little girls, and she survived the attack by the Shacklewell Ripper. Robin had proven repeatedly that she was made of tougher stuff and it was past time she utilized it for her good. 

Matthew, their friends, and family, would challenge her, but she would leave no room for discussion. Look how far she had come in less than two years doing a job she loved, eventually becoming a business partner so she could do the job she loved. That’s what she wanted more than anything for herself. The rest will get figured out as she went, but having that as a foundation was non-negotiable. She just wished she had found the courage to do so before the wedding. But that was part of the figuring out she would have to do after following through on her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always be your "True Robin" :)


	3. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Shanker make a plan.
> 
> Robin confronts Matthew and ends the charade.

Strike had struggled the rest of the walk, “a walk of shame” if you will, as he nearly asked her to come with him. It was he she gazed upon when answering ‘I do’ and it was he on whom she focused as she made her way back down the aisle on the arm of her new husband, not breaking eye contact until she turned to exit the church. 

Fuckery, absolute fuckery, the whole thing.

He plopped himself into the stolen car, ignoring the pain in his leg, and avoiding Shanker’s disappointed look.

“I take it’s just you and me, eh, Bunsen?”

Strike stared out the window. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, mate. Back home then?” 

Shaking his head, Strike sighed deeply, an audible sound of distress, so Shanker looked away out of respect. “No. I’m fucking tired. Find the closest Travel Lodge. I need a fucking whiskey and some sleep.”

Shanker grinned as he started the engine. “Gonna need more than one, mate.”

Strike grunted as he lit another cigarette, willing the burn to counteract the other one as Shanker peeled out of the lot.

*****

Robin re-entered the reception hall to find Matthew and Sarah slow dancing rather intimately and headed straight for the doorway that led to the bridal suite. As she passed, Matthew let go of Sarah to grab Robin’s arm, the bad one naturally. She winced and glared at him at his lack of awareness once more to her injury.

“Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

“You embarrassed me in front of our guests, running out like that to go to him,” he blamed.

“You seemed quite over it by that slow dance you were just enjoying with the ever so attentive Ms. Shadlock.” She turned again and he grabbed her shoulder this time.

“Stop grabbing me!” she swatted his arm away like an annoying insect.

“Our first dance of all things to walk out on,” he huffed, folding his arms.

She pointed a direct finger towards his face, “You chose a break-up song as our wedding dance which is no more ridiculous than us getting married in the first place!”

His arms crossed defensively as he exclaimed, “What the hell does that mean then?”

“It means the first dance isn’t the only thing I’m walking out on!” They both glared; he in disbelief and her in defiance.

The officiator approached them carefully with a piece of paper and a pen. “Would you both please sign your marriage certificate? You’re not legal until you do.”

Robin blinked. “It’s not legally official yet?” 

“Not yet,” the officiator said, extending the pen to her. Neither she nor Matthew reached for it. 

She wouldn’t have to have an annulment, she was still free. Oh, the debt she now owed her parents though…

As if summoned by her thought, Linda and Michael along with Matthew’s father, Geoffrey, descended upon them demanding to know what was going on. Robin viewed from the corner of her eye that Sarah had shuffled her way as close as possible to find out as well. Robin tossed her a glance that had her shrinking backward.

“Yes, let’s all find out, shall we? To the bridal suite!” She hoisted up her wedding dress and led the way to their room. They filed in, her younger brother Martin at the tail end, who shut the door behind them.

“I insist that no one speak until I’ve said my piece to Matthew.” 

Everyone was startled at Robin’s command but complied as she continued to speak towards her not-so-legal husband. 

“This was a mistake. You had no business blocking my calls or my contacts or withholding the news of the Shacklewell Ripper. After what that man put me through, you do that! You had no right to invade my privacy or control my life with your assumptions and conjecture, and you certainly had no regard for me when those actions interfered with my having the one thing that truly makes me happy.”

Matthew sneered, “Oh, I kept you from crippled Cormoran have I?”

His comment revolted her. “You insensitive, daft…”

Linda interjected, “Now Robin…”

Robin turned on her with eyes ablaze. “No, you don’t get to defend him or stop me from expressing the truth, however unpleasant it may be for you to hear, but it’s the truth.”

Back to Matthew, she continued, “I meant my job, you prick! You knew how devastated I was having to drop out of Uni, foregoing my education, and any chance of becoming an investigator. I got a second chance and you stomped on it all because of your insecurity in my working with a male detective. You just kept at me accept these corporate jobs, like you, all for a bigger paycheck while making me miserable at having my abilities go to waste.”

“Riding his coattails by being his secretary?”

Robin threw her head back and laughed at his inability to see her value after all this time. “You keep calling me that which belittles what I have done and can do while showing you understand nothing about it. I am his business partner, which is more respect and encouragement than you’ve bothered to give me in the whole of our relationship." 

Matthew paced in front of her. “You can’t honestly tell me that you haven’t been having an affair with him.” 

Robin was exasperated with this constant assumption. “Would you get off it? Or maybe it’s you projecting your guilt of an affair.”

“Don’t…” he warned.

“Even back at Uni when you couldn’t stand it when my marks were always higher than yours. No, Robin couldn’t possibly have any special abilities of her own to aid in the success of an agency. No, it has to be because I’m shagging the boss!” 

Matthew practically talked over her with, “You didn’t look at me when you said ‘I do.’”

She threw up her hands. “Because I was choosing the job and not you. I wouldn’t give it up for anyone, but you knew that so you deleted those messages, making it appear as I didn’t have anything going on in my life but you. Now I could devote and focus all my energies on you and what you want me to do. Unforgiveable, Matthew.” 

His cheeks blazed and his eyes darted all over. “Fine. Go back to work for him and get yourself killed if that’s what you want.”

“Better to be killed doing what I love than to suffocate slowly next to someone I don’t,” she said quietly. “The truth of it is, I fell out of love with you a long time ago. You were a safe option I stuck with after what happened at Uni, but while I was at my worst and most vulnerable, you went and shagged Sarah behind my back.”

Linda, learning this for the first time, gasped, “Matthew!” 

Martin stepped forward and asked, “Can I punch him now?”

Robin kept going, “I stayed with you for all the wrong reasons, all the while my light and sense of self dwindled to nothing. Then I received a temporary assignment that changed my life and you’ve done nothing but fight me on it since. Be it Sarah or someone else, it doesn’t matter to me what you do so long as it doesn’t involve me anymore. I’m ready to be at my best and to do so, you can’t have any part of my life anymore.”

Matthew shook his head at this rejection, forever the sore loser. “Nah, nah, no, you’re not getting off that easy. We are married and you are my wife, so you’re going to be involved until this is resolved.”

Robin stepped towards him, chin up, and clear eyes. “No, I won’t. We didn’t sign the marriage certificate so it’s not legal. But if you feel so strongly about it, say it now in front of our parents that you continue to ignore my wishes and make my life impossible. We just said some words in front of a lot of people in a nice church and a fancy party.”

Geoffrey began arguing over the expense and travel everyone endured, the inconvenience and disrespect showed upon their family and friends who were in attendance. 

The non-bride simply smiled and shrugged, “They got a good show, free food and wine, and a break from their lives. They can take whatever gift they brought for us back and will be over it in no time. I’m not signing my life over to appease Matthew let alone the guests.”

Geoffrey scoffed and Michael asked to speak with him privately. Robin turned to Linda, tears now falling freely. “I am sorry I didn’t dare to end this when I should have, be it yesterday, last week, or back in Uni. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

Linda hugged her apprehensively. “We just want you happy and will support you however we can. Are you sure this is what you want?” 

She pulled away and held her chin. “Never been more certain.”

Linda patted her cheek and nodded. “We’ll work it out, darling. Best get on with it while you can.”

Robin moves to her luggage and Matthew approaches her while keeping his hands to himself. “What about the honeymoon? The press has already been calling up to the house asking for you. Maybe we should still go to discuss how to proceed when we get back.”

Recognizing his attempt at manipulating her, she reaffirmed, “I have decided. I’m not worried about the press and neither are you. You go on the trip, I mean, you already paid for everything in advance. Go alone or take your mate Tom or his fiancée, Sarah.” 

She removed the wedding and engagement rings from her finger and held them out for him to take. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave a sympathetic smile before throwing the words he used on her the moment Strike left their house post-sacking, “It’s for the best, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, there should've been a receiving line to punch Matthew. I do love Robin's verbal throwback!


	4. Revelations - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin makes a plan to see Strike. Strike makes a plan for when he returns to London. A surprise guest thwarts some of the plans.

Robin emerged from the bathroom having changed into a pastel blue blouse which flattered her blue-gray eyes, a soft charcoal skirt, and black flats (those wedding shoes were too tight and uncomfortable). The clips had been freed from her hair, allowing the loose red-gold curls to fall freely around her shoulders. Her make-up remained light, her lips barely covered with a sheer pink gloss and a dab of mascara. Ok, she used a lot more concealer under her eyes, too. 

Linda quickly scampered over to embrace her only daughter. Discretely, she placed some cash in Robin’s hands. “Call me when you’re settled, love. I know this wasn’t easy and that you’re returning to work for that detective…”

“His name is Cormoran, mum,” Robin insisted his being recognized as a bloody person with a name, a human fixture in her life.

“It’s my job to worry, but seeing you handle Matthew back there and all you’ve accomplished in this line of work, well, I’m proud of you.” She kissed Robin’s cheeks, who couldn’t remember the last time either of her parents told her they were proud of her.

“Thanks, mum. Give Dad my love as I need to head back. I love you.” She squeezed her hand one last time then located Martin.

“Fancy giving your big sis a lift home so I can get the Land Rover and back to London?” He grinned, happy to oblige. 

Once in his car, he said, “Since tonight is the night for confessions, I admit I was never really keen on Matthew, just something about him.”

“Some brother you are for just now telling me this,” she scoffed.

“You can do so much better, sis. He doesn’t even have a chin.” She laughed and Martin defended his brotherhood by telling her that while she was off changing, he had the pleasure of punching Matthew once for making extremely rude comments about her tarting it up with her boss. He laughed at her appalled yet approving look.

“My wedding gift to you. Plus, I just wanted to knock that smirk right off his face.”

*****

Once Martin had dropped Robin off at her parent’s house to get the Land Rover, she texted Shanker. She had to be stealth about confronting Cormoran by surprise. A grand gesture of sorts and a gamble she was willing to take because he was worth the risk even if it did jeopardize her job offer. 

**Hey Shanker, it’s Robin. I’m about to head to London. On my own. Watch over C till I get there. -R**

Remembering that Cormoran might still be blocked in her phone, she fixed that immediately. A few moments later her phone pinged with Shanker’s reply. 

**Robs! We’re in town for the night. Travel Lodge about 30 minutes from ya. Heading to London in morning.**

Her heart lurched to her throat because Cormoran was still within reach. Maybe it was better showing up at his hotel, a neutral place far from Denmark Street and everyone they knew (except Shanker but he’d make himself scarce). If it blew up in her face, then she’d have some time to recover on the return drive to London. She’d sort her living situation out and put everything that is or could’ve been between her and Strike in the past. Surely, he wouldn’t rescind his offer just because he rejected her personally, would he? No, he was a man of his word who could compartmentalize, a trait she rather envied and despised equally.

Not that she believed it would come to that; not when so much had happened between them tonight.

She found the GPS directions for the nearest Travel Lodge and then texted Shanker once more.

**On my way to hotel. Need to speak to C. He doesn’t know I’m coming. Robs x**

She felt this was the best way in letting Shanker know this was a secret mission.

*****

In the hotel room, Strike heard Shanker’s phone ping yet again.

“Is something going down that I outta pretend to not know about?” Strike grumbled from the double bed closest to the bathroom, pressing the clicker to locate a suitable program to distract him. 

Shanker just beamed, flashing that gold tooth. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty head about. I’ll pop out for some whiskey and cigs. Take a shower, mate. Ripe you are!”  
Strike rolled his eyes, settling on rugby highlights, and muttered, “Fuck all the way off.”

Shanker closed the door behind him which only reminded Strike of the metaphoric door that had closed once and for all between him and a particular red-head. He’d feel sorry for himself until the whiskey kicked in and then he’d really feel sorry for himself. He lifted his arms and sniffed; bloody hell, he was ripe. Best he did drown himself in a hot shower in privacy.

*****

The convenient shop across from the hotel didn’t carry the fancy kind of beer and liquor, but Shanker and Strike didn’t need fancy. He bought two bottles of cheap whiskey, a couple of packs of smokes, and some crisps. As he walked back to the hotel lot, he stopped when Robin honked and parked. He waved at her as she got out. 

“This is quite a surprise, Miss Robin. Don’t worry, Bunsen ain’t none the wiser.” He paused as she took out her bags. “You broke his heart, ya did,” he confessed, not feeling much guilt about it because he didn’t want to see it happen again especially from Robin. 

This surprised her. “I did?”

Shanker shook his head. “I hope you’re not here to break it again.”

She kissed one of his cheeks and reassured him, “It’s not just his heart that’s in this, I promise.”

Shanker flashed that gold tooth smile. “I knew it, tried telling him but he wasn’t having it. Best ya get on. Take these cuz he’s expecting them.” He hands her a bag of Bunsen’s rations. “Room 219. I’ll hang out here for a bit till you gimme the all-clear. Might wanna hold your nose.” He chuckled at this private joke as Robin twisted her face. 

“I’m afraid to ask so I’ll just say thank you.”

He shrugged and lit a cigarette. “So long as you don’t hurt him, I got your back, Robs. Good luck.” 

*****

Taking a deep breath, she headed inside the Travel Lodge and toward the lift. As she waited, her insides flipped and her scalp singed in anticipation of seeing her giant of a boss once as a free woman, the true Robin. The giddiness of telling him how crazy she is about him overwhelmed her as did the fear of being rejected. If his answer instigated a breakdown, she’d do so in private solitude. She replayed Shanker’s words about her breaking Cormoran’s heart.

Once in the lift, she took out the whiskey bottle and knocked a gulp back, coughing instantly. It was an off-brand and she flailed out her tongue in disgust. This cheap stuff was horrible, but the burn was enough to provide an awakening of sorts to go with the small dose of liquid courage. 

Strike preferred whiskey when he was feeling out of sorts proving he was bothered by more than just the regret of sacking her. Shortly arriving as his temp, she witnessed how hard he took his ex-fiancé’s message about marrying another man a few weeks after their break-up. Was he falling apart over Robin now? She never intended to hurt him; didn’t even realize she affected him on that level. 

The lift opened and she quietly moved in the direction of Room 219. She decided to text Shanker with confidence.

**Taking C back to London. Be safe on your way back. Robs x**  
…  
 **Quick work, Robs! Take care of him. Let him get some sleep tho.**

Cheeky bastard.

Outside his door, she heard the faint sounds of a rugby match. She smoothed down her hair and clothes as much to calm herself as ensuring she looked presentable.   
It was now or never. 

She knocked three times and blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A rustling sound that wasn’t her nerves came from inside followed by Cormoran’s shout.  
“Use the damn key card!” he ordered.

She knocked again.

“Fuck’s sake, Shanks!” He had just taken off his bloody prosthesis and had stretched out across the bed, freshly showered and comfortable while drying off in a loosely buttoned-up shirt and trousers. Then the knocks came. 

Robin stifled a giggle as he mumbled incoherently on the other side of the door. 

He could just hop on over to let him in, but what if it wasn’t Shanker? He would’ve yelled back a retort by now. His detective senses were on full alert. “Just a sec…”  
He snaps back on his prosthesis and makes the few steps to the door. As he yanks it open, he growls, “If this is a joke you better have…” 

Abruptly he stopped, seeing Robin before him. 

“Robin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all need a Shanker in our lives.


	5. Revelations - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Robin are open and honest with each other like never before as they struggle their feelings about one another, themselves, and the possibilities.

Cormoran stared at her, frozen and transported out of his body, this place and time. He might as well have been pushed off the platform at the Tube station in front of an oncoming train. Eventually, his eyes took notice of her, piece by piece. She wasn’t the bride he left over an hour ago, one manicured hand on the strap of her knapsack and the other on the suitcase handle without a wedding ring. He failed in containing his surprise to see her. Her eyes peered at him, vulnerable and welcoming, an apprehensive smile on closed lips.

She looked over his shoulder and then back at him. “May I come in?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head nervously like he did when he descended the stairs at Vashti as she admired herself in the mirror in the lovely green dress now kept treasured in her closet.  
Passing him she could smell the soap on him, noticing his hair still slightly damp and his pallor brightened from a fresh, hot shower. She belatedly understood Shanker’s joke. 

He looked up and down the hall, half expecting someone to be following her. Once satisfied she was alone, he gently closed the door, still processing her being here in his hotel room and not with her new twat husband.

Robin took in his appearance: his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his shirt buttons off alignment by one, dark chest hair peeking up at the top. He hadn’t bothered with a belt or shoe for his remaining foot, which slightly limped as he made his way to the nightstand between the two double beds. Setting her belongings to the side, he picked up the clicker to turn off the program, his brows furrowed. 

Cormoran cleared his throat, wanting to sound normal. “Fair warning, Shanker will be back shortly.”

“Oh, we’ve already talked and he bid me bring you these.” She set out the contents of the shopping bag between the telly and a tray with a kettle and coffeemaker, all of which sat upon a long dresser.

Cormoran guessed, “You were texting him.”

Robin flashed him a smile over her shoulder as she poured cheap whiskey into two plastic cups provided with the kettle. His brain was in an aftershock with his senses coming and going that he didn’t know which to sort first, but he knew when to ask a question and when not to – a skill currently being tested for infallibility.

“This whiskey is shite.” She turned with a cup held out for him to which he arched an eyebrow.

“I took a sip on the way up.”

Shite or not, he needed it so he gratefully took it down in one gulp. This time Robin’s eyebrow shot up and her lips pursed.

“We didn’t make a toast.”

Cormoran held out his empty cup which she refilled. Eyeing her closely he dared to ask, “To what should we be toasting?”

Robin set the bottle down then thoughtfully looks at her cup, “Since we’ve both done this today, we’ll toast to correcting mistakes…undoing what was done.” She taps her cup to his, “Cheers.” 

She threw back the contents and swallowed quickly, leaning her head back with her eyes closed, breathing slowly out of her mouth. He gazed upon the length of her neck and the roundness of her lips; mirroring her drinking technique with eyes on her.

He blew out a breath as his chest burned. “Christ, it’s like lighter fluid.”

“The trick is to not let it touch your tongue.” 

She took his empty cup and set them both on the dresser. Her eyes solemn once more, her teeth caught her bottom lip and hands gripped the edge of the dresser as she internally willed the nerves to back down. The combination of her eyes with the pastel blue blouse was like a beacon, the latter of which snugged against her curves, accentuating her breasts and slightly revealing her shoulders with its wide collar. The skirt stopped above her knee, slender legs ending with flat shoes. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her in flats, but being on her feet all day no doubt played a role in that decision. And the brace on her right forearm that concealed the unhealed, tender wound of being slashed by the knife of a serial killer.

Another round of silence and staring; the pausing of two detectives waiting for the other to break first. Cormoran had nothing else to lose at this point so he broke it.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is this a pit stop on your way to the honeymoon?” He couldn’t help but let the bitterness flop off his lighter-fluid-laden tongue. A scowl consumed his face as he internally scolded himself.

She let the remark roll off her shoulders. “There have been some changes.”

His head titled. “Changes.”

“New developments.”

“Developments.” 

He felt like an idiot parroting her, but it helped him focus on what she was saying and not how beautiful she looked or how badly he wanted to touch her red-gold waves that caressed her shoulders. 

God, how he wanted to touch those shoulders. Wait…

He wanted to be put out of his misery or be left alone to deal with it as he deemed fit. “Robin, what the hell is going on here?”

“Like you, I had a big mistake that needed correcting.”

“Which was?”

She lowered her lids a moment, gathering courage before looking him in the eye again. “One that I should’ve corrected long ago as I had ample reasons and opportunities to do so…Uni…after Uni…taking this job…Barrow…so many times in between all those I can’t recall. Up to including my wedding day, of all days, and if you’re still not sure on that day, then surely it must be the right thing to do. So I started with reversing my wedding day.”

Cormoran’s mouth closed and he swallowed hard, as his eyes steadied on her face. His knee was hurting and he needed to sit down, but that would put him at a disadvantage to staying on guard and in control of himself, not looking weak. 

Fuck it, he either sat now or would be out of commission for several days. He lowered himself to a bed corner, immediately feeling physical relief. 

Without asking, Robin took out some paracetamol from her purse then went to the bathroom to fill a cup of water. She returned with it and the tablets in her hand, holding them out for him to take. 

“Matthew blocked you from my phone; deleted your messages. He decided for me that you would no longer be in my life.”

“Twat,” he muttered as he took the water and tablets from her, swallowing them immediately. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She took his cup and set it on the dresser again. “He is a twat. A total selfish prick.” 

Cormoran’s eyebrows lifted in amusement as she rarely used such language. He thought how she could recite the whole catalog of vulgarity and he’d still be enamored with her.

“We could spend all night discussing his lesser points, but that would take up too much time, and I’ve wasted enough of that. It would also only magnify how big a mug I’ve been with my stupidity. How pathetic and weak of a woman I’ve been who blindly accepted settling for someone who doesn’t love her in any sense of the word.”

Cormoran’s scowl softened into sympathy, wishing he could hold her. “Hey. Don’t talk about my partner like that. It’s ok to fuck up on occasion. Some of us do brilliantly more than others, but I can assure you that you are not beyond redemption. If you are then I’m fucked!”

They shared a little laugh as the tears started brimming from the corners of her eyes. Even with the tears, she was so very beautiful.

“Oh, but this,” she shook her head a little. “I was standing there at the altar looking at him, not feeling any love for him. I didn’t even like him anymore. We’d gradually grown apart having become such different people with little in common bonded only by the length of time we shared. It’s not a reason to get married. I was the one being harnessed and manipulated to stay on his track, not mine, not even ours. But I allowed it.” 

She had more to say so he remained a silent soundboard. He would be anything she needed him to be so long as it helped her.

“Anyways, I had plenty to think on after you sacked me…”

Cormoran wrenched his eyes closed and screwed up his face regretfully.

“Although losing a job I love was devastating, it didn’t compare to losing you.”

His eyes flung open, believing he misheard. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Your friendship has been the most important of my life, more so than you being my mentor and colleague.” Her voice began to waver as tears fell but she held strong and would say what she had to say before completely falling apart. “It hurt a great deal knowing that all of it had been completely cut out, it was just business to you and we were finished along with any trust, respect, and faith you had in me. Quick and clean.”

Quick and clean, he thought, the phrase he used to describe his method of sacking her right before giving the reason for “gross misconduct” as justification for said sacking. Ashamed, Cormoran ran a hand through his damp hair, then rubbed his hand over his beard and back over his neck.

Seeing his discomfort, she put him at ease with, “But then you showed up to the wedding and I knew that not all was lost.”

“I screwed up. I had to get to you as good faith that I care about you, that I’ll do whatever it takes to re-earn your trust, that I’m not going anywhere.”

At least he can admit his mistakes and apologize, Robin admired.

“Robin, I’m so sorry. Sacking you was one of the worst decisions I ever made and even more so how I did it. I’ve sacked others for far less, but with you, it was done out of bias and fear, cloaked as a business one.” 

Confused she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Since we’re speaking freely…I thought better of you than to throw your fresh career away for a guy who hates what you do and well, for being a general tosser. With his cheating on you when you were at your most vulnerable, I could end him for that alone by the way. But you took him back and I suppose in a way I was punishing you while trying to save myself.”

She tilted her head at him, trying to understand.

“You took him back. Your engagement ring was on. I doubted my ability to move forward as your working partner with you marrying someone else.”

Robin lifted a hand to muffle a sob and looked away. Cormoran pushed himself back up from the bed and stepped close enough to her to catch the floral scent he had grown accustomed to and missed in her absence.

“You are the most capable, intelligent, sharp woman I have ever met who has brought more value than I ever dared hope for the agency. You bloody saved it and in doing so saved me, and I repaid you appallingly. Learned that lesson real quick. I’d kick myself, but that wouldn’t end well, deserving of it though I am.”

The image of a one-legged man kicking his on arse just to land on it produced a light chuckle out of Robin which then made Cormoran snort, and then she laughed even harder, holding onto her sides.

“Happy to have provided you with some amusing imagery of me kicking my own arse and falling over like a moron.”

The laugh eased the remaining nerves, chipped away at the tension that loomed between them.

His face serious, “I never doubted your abilities and it took a lot of guts to do what you did going after Brockbank.” 

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night. I couldn’t.” 

Cormoran returned to sit at the edge of the bed. “Believe it or not, I do understand. Some cases will keep you up for various reasons, even when you do all the right things. You lose sleep if you can’t try, you lose sleep when you do try but fail. That also made me realize that perhaps doing this as long as I have, that I’ve become a bit desensitized. We can’t save them all, but we can do our part.”

This time Robin moved closer to him. “Cormoran, you care a great deal about people and your clients. Like when you turned down some paid work to help out Leonora Quine. No one else would’ve done a fig’s worth of that. That is truly heroic.”

He liked hearing her say his name and there was a certain intimacy about it as she never called him Strike or Corm or a randomly made-up nickname like practically everyone else who knew him.

Withholding some smugness he reminded, “But it paid off.”

Robin moved to stand directly in front of him, his body on full alert at her approach, desperate to touch her yet afraid of not getting to.

“Doing the right thing usually does even if it’s only for the sake of your peace of mind.”

Braving her response, he asked, “Is that what this is? Something to be done for your peace of mind?”

She lowered herself until her knees touched the carpet and lifted those blue-gray eyes to search his green ones. Being so close to him threw off her equilibrium and clouded her senses as she just wanted to be buried in his arms. She placed one of his hands between both of hers, conveying longing and hope.

“I’m hoping this is for both our sakes. If you don’t feel the same way, then I will accept that, and speak nothing of it again.”

He barely nodded before she brought his hand to her cheek and his thumb wiped away a tear.

“I’m done with being afraid. I don’t know exactly when it happened as it’s all been coming on so gradually, the layering of feelings placed by instances and gestures, grand and small, in everything you do as a partner and as a man. I have to tell you what’s in my heart or else crushed by the weight of holding onto the truth. And the truth is, Cormoran Blue Strike, I’m in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we all sitting down? :)
> 
> If you don't want the sweet smut (and it is rather sweet and not porn-like), skip Chapter 6. I don't even use graphic terms for body parts...


	6. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be the lengthy, detailed, lovely, sweet, sexy, magical smut…
> 
> A whole lot of reconciliation...

All the air escapes from Cormoran’s lungs as he takes in this declaration to be processed by the part of his brain that wasn’t somehow exhausted or strained. The realization of her words, the love within and shining in her eyes, slowly relaxed him from head to toe. Within moments that silly, awkward grin of his appeared on his face as he placed his other hand on her cheek. She moved her head side to side, kissing the insides of both his palms, without breaking eye contact. The loving gesture was too much for his heart to take.

“You love me,” he stared in disbelief.

“Very much,” she whispered then teased, “I quite like you a lot as well as fancy you.”

“That is most convenient considering I feel the same way about you,” he admitted, face relaxed with relief. 

“Really?” Robin smiled through her tears and bit her lower lip.

“Really. I’ve been waiting for you to show up my whole life without quite knowing so until you did.” He traced a finger along her jawline.

“You mean when you nearly killed me by pummeling me down a flight of stairs?”

He snickered, “Hey, I saved you, didn’t I? Least I could do when you saved me from repeating one of my own mistakes.” The unspoken Charlotte remained a ghost. “You showed up when I needed you to and eventually realized how much. Timing is everything, I suppose.”

She smiled, looking as pleased as a child being handed a gift by Father Christmas himself.

“I’ve wanted you for ages, Ellacott. Just always believed you deserved better, not that it meant me as I don’t deserve you. Now that I can, I freely tell you how I’ve loved you and will love you for as long as you let me and even still.”

He concentrated on her moving her face closer to his until their lips met. Their mouths pressed into a tender, patient kiss, acclimating to this new intimacy. His thumbs caressed her cheeks as his fingertips rested against her neck. They sampled each other, her mouth finding his scar amidst the stubble, his mouth gently tugging at her bottom lip. Her hands that rested upon his thighs moved upwards. Her mouth opened for him, allowing his tongue to find hers. As imagined, she tasted sweet and delicate in contrast to his smoke-laced musk. 

One of his hands lowered to wrap around her waist while the other vanished into her hair as he deepened the kiss even further, coaxing a deep moan from within her which he responded with an even deeper one. Her fingers gripped his lower back; they desperately lapped at each other until breathless with slightly bruised lips. They parted to take each other in, a smile tugged at his mouth as her eyes flashed with tamed desire.

Robin was pure heaven and everything good in this world, and she chose him. He would savor these offerings and treasure her in all the ways he could show her. The wedding, the agency, the Shacklewell Ripper, toxic relationships, and any other unrelated thought and person all faded to the background like white noise. There was nothing more precious in the world to him than right here, right now. Although he wanted her, he would not lead as her comfort and security were paramount to him. She would decide how far things would go between them physically tonight. Even if it stopped at kissing or him just holding her all night, he didn’t care for he just wanted to be with her.

As if reading his thoughts, aware that neither his hands nor mouth had strayed from their current positions, she gradually slid her hands up his torso until her fingers found the top button.   
She smiled up at him as she unfastened it. 

He asked, “What’s so amusing?”

“Your buttons are off by one.”

“Eh, I wasn’t expecting company worthy of being presentable for.” 

She kissed his jawline and neck, following the trail of undone buttons at an anticipatory pace.

“Robin, you’ve no idea what you do to me…” he managed to say in a hitched voice.

Once she reached his belly and parted his shirt, she raised her head and pressed her body against his as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. He let go of her so he could pull the sleeves down and immediately cupped her face to take her mouth once more. As his tongue meticulously traced every part of her mouth, she unhitched his belt then the button to his trousers before caressing his thighs with her palms. Tilting her head to give him full access, his mouth trailed along her chin, down her neck where he breathed her in. 

“I’m pretty sure I do know based on what you do to me, Cormoran.”

The way she said his name always undid him…

He moved his head to tend to the other side of her, trailing kisses from where the blouse touched her shoulder up to her ear, causing a glorious shiver. He loved learning what made his Robin moan, gasp, shiver…and he desired more information.

His hands plummeted along her sides until they reached the hem of the blouse and paused. She broke from him to lift her arms straight up, permitting him to remove it. He took special care in doing so, avoiding her injured arm and then tossed it aside, only breaking eye contact to view her creamy skin, the perfect swell of her breasts cupped in white lace and a soft curvy stomach. She blushed shyly as he pressed the back of one hand to her stomach, stroking her faintly with his knuckles, the hair of which causing slight tickling yet hot bolts to shoot through her body. 

“I love watching how you respond to my touch.” She sighed deeply, having yet another level of her true self fully accepted by him, and any physical comparisons she once held against a certain ex of his melted away like she was in his hands.

His hand came between her breasts and then a single finger traced along her collarbone, eliciting more shivers to amplify her arousal. With a bit of bravery, she took this hand with the extended finger and used it to trace her lips before her tongue flicked over it. This small act seized his entire body, his eyes darkening with intensity. This boosted her confidence to put his finger completely in her mouth, slowly gliding over the length of it, coating it with her taste. 

“Fuck, Ellacott…” he gasped.

As soon as his finger was free, he gathered her in his arms and crushed his mouth to hers. She thrilled at affecting him this way for she had never truly known what it was to be desired and craved so passionately. She often imagined what it would be like to be ravished and spent, but she was determined in making the journey there as memorable and luxurious as possible. It was worth the wait for she knew she would no longer have to imagine what it would be like as Cormoran was already providing an answer.

She pressed her hands against his shoulders which caused Cormoran to remember his control so he slowed down and caressed her body with his hands and fingertips, keeping his kisses languid yet thorough. Using him to remain steady, she broke the kiss so she could stand up and he immediately massaged her knees at the bend. 

“You drive me mad,” he confessed.

“And you’re taking me with you,” she countered.

Her fingers curled in his hair as he massaged further down her calves, and trailed his fingers back up her legs until they rested on her hips. He kissed below her bra, his scruff against her soft stomach was so masculine and erotic, and she wanted his beard to touch every part of her skin. 

“The beard…keep it…please…” she panted.

His grinning mouth planted kisses across her stomach and sides, sucked at the bits of skin near her hip where the skirt began. She let go of his hair to unzip the skirt enabling him to lower it over her hips, placing kisses as he uncovered new skin, finding more white lace to gaze upon and trace with his lips. The skirt pooled at her feet and she steadily kicked it aside along with her flats.

He took her fully in now, standing before him and in between his thighs, in nothing more than her white lace and arm brace.

“Damn,” he whispered and she nervously bit her bottom lip. 

“I know it’s a bit bridal and virginal, but it’s the only nice underwear I packed.” His eyes narrowed fractionally as this intrigued Strike for he didn’t know whether to decipher this as she didn’t care into putting much effort into the extravagance and showmanship of lingerie or she planned on being naked most of the honeymoon which would make them pointless purchases. 

“Of course I’m not a virgin, but kinda feel like one compared to…” her eyes trailed off as she tried to convey she wasn’t as skilled as Cormoran or his string of beautiful lovers, the one comparison left to flame her insecurity. Add to that, her experience with Matthew wasn’t very noteworthy or exciting, not that she could compare it to anything else. She thought that’s just the way it was when you stayed with a person for so long. If she had counted all the fake orgasms she had to muster her wall would look like that of a prison cell with chalk marks counting the days of a prisoner’s sentence.

He understood her meaning and did his best to convey that hadn’t reminisced his romantic past until now. “There is no comparison. You are one of one, there is no one like you. You are all I want and need.” 

And he was going to show her just how special and amazing. She stopped biting her lip but her eyes had already watered.

“You big softie,” she sighed.

“Sshh. Only with you so don’t tell anyone,” he teased and winked at her.

Feeling bold she offered, “Only if you let me take off your pants.”

He broke into a wide grin. “Done!”

She giggled as she leaned over to unzip him slowly; her face surprised when brushing against his impressively aroused state. He lifted his hips so she could maneuver his trousers down to his knees, then looked to him for guidance. She’d never been this close and intimate to his prosthesis, but she very much wanted to be – for it didn’t define or diminish him in her eyes just like her rape didn’t change how he viewed her. 

Always a student, Robin carefully asked, “How do I proceed?” Letting him decide how he wanted to take care of this.

He appreciated her allowing him to decide what made him comfortable. “It’s easy enough with practice. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please, for future reference as I want to know how best to make you comfortable.” 

Future reference, he reflected with only hope and optimism.

He showed her how to undo the strap and remove it along with the special protective covering for his skin. She set the prosthesis against the wall near the bed, within his reach. He remained seated in his boxers, his arousal definitive, the size of which made her catch her breath at learning all manner of details about Cormoran’s body. Quietly, he waited for her to make a move or give him an instruction, surprised by it being the latter.

“Lay back against the pillows.” 

He did her bidding and pulled himself up until he was sprawled on the bed, his head resting on a pillow and his erection pitched like a skyscraper underneath a tent. Like a cat, she eyed him curiously as she lowered herself to the foot of the bed, crawling towards him. He enjoyed the angle of her body, the view of her hanging breasts, the top of her backside, the flow of her red-gold hair around her like a halo. She hovered over him, hands on either side of his head, and adored all his features, bruised and cut, but overall still him. He rested his hands against her hips and made circles in her skin with feather-light touches.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” he repeated.

She lowered her mouth to his, quickly diving her tongue against his which he greedily accepted and sucked on generously. She lapped at him and her hips began swaying to the motion of their mouths, his manhood grazing against her white lace and stomach. For a few moments, she feasted on his mouth and tongue, before moving on to his jaw and neck, over to the uninjured ear and gently nibbled on it. He released a low growl which pleased her. He attempted with his hands to suggest he flip her over to be under him, but she held firm and he obeyed.

“I want to show you first,” she enlightened.

He couldn’t recall ever being the one to be tended to first. It was a strange sensation, but he welcomed this form of pure, selfless giving which defined Robin through and through.  
Moving down lower to his chest, she marked kisses and licks through the dark hair covering his torso, finding his nipples which made his body tighten and bow against her with need. As she tended his body with her mouth, his hands traced up the sides of her body to her back to trace random figures across her back, grazing the clasp to her bra. She stopped kissing his chest to look up at him.

“Undo it.”

In one swift motion and click of fingers, her bra was unclasped. She continued kissing his body, moving to his stomach as he gently coaxed the straps from her shoulders and down her arms as her body slid further away. Her hands lifted, one by one, enabling him to fully remove her bra before each hand returned to grasp his chest. Her mouth was now at the hem of his boxers and she traced her tongue alongside from hip to hip, gently biting and licking each side. Her lips went down each leg over the boxers, first his whole one to his knee, back up and over, painfully ignoring the part of him that was standing at attention, to his other leg and down to where it ended. 

Previous lovers had gone near it, but there was always a sense of trepidation or obligation. Not even Charlotte gave it special treatment for then she’d have to fully acknowledge that he was ‘not whole.’ This voluntary oblivion was beyond Robin, for she provided it with kisses and light touches as far as she could go, unafraid or revolted by it, thus building their trust and acceptance of one another even further. He was wrong to think he couldn’t love her more.

She sat on her ankles between his legs, in only her knickers with tousled hair, the look of adoration and care prominent. Carefully, she placed both hands on his partial leg, massaging and caressing gently, catching his watchful eyes with periodic glances.

“Is this ok?”

“Absolutely,” he managed hoarsely. “Makes me believe I’m not missing anything.”

Without hesitation, “You aren’t. Let me show you how perfect you are to me.”

Speechless, he merely nodded as her gentle hands skimmed up both his thighs as she stretched across his lower half.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered hypnotically, “and just feel what I’m doing to you.” He closed his eyes and mentally ordered himself to let go. 

She had often wondered, in addition to the skills he had obtained through various lovers, how those women treated him in and out of bed. Did they show him tenderness? Did they give more than they took? Did they ensure his pleasure as much as their own? Did they just tend a physical need rather than satisfy the other elements required to truly make a lasting, memorable interlude?

She wanted him to know he was a man who deserved to be treated with all this and more, that love and friendship was their whole equation. Robin Ellacott would do her best to make this happen, figuring it out her new, and hopefully last, lover.

Her figure glided against his as far as she could reach and then deliberately retreated, like a pendulum across his physique. Like her words, the movements induced a trance-like state, her body and hands flowing wherever they could reach, sending passion and sparks throughout his skin and blood. She was empowered and inspired to use her hair like an artist with a paintbrush, swirling the soft strands over his legs up to tease his hard length, making him gasp, before ascending his body and arms. Repeating this motion caused Cormoran to vibrate with sensations, unidentifiable from being new and delightful, all because of Robin. Without bearings, he was completely at her mercy, bewitched under her spell as the sole source of her desire.

On her descent, she placed her fingers inside his boxers at his hips, nudged him to lift so she pulled them down carefully over his tumescent state and off. Her hands circled him at the base and he moaned deeply. She watched his expressions as she caressed his length with both hands, touching the tip to spread the release across the head.

“God that feels good.”

She continued stroking him then lowered her mouth to include it and her tongue with the movements of her fingers. 

“Fuck…” he groaned as his eyes rolled back, gripping the bedspread.

Her movements increased and her tongue varied in speed, the combination making her a bit dizzy. Her mouth surrounded him to fully taste him, the smoothness of him against her tongue made her moan with pleasure, the vibration of which nearly sent him over the edge; his hand hurried to catch her wrist which brought her back to focus.

She stopped and pulled away, meeting his eyes, wondering if she’d done something wrong.

“That is amazing, but I won’t last a minute if you keep that up, love, and I want to be with you when I do.” Her bottom lip pouted slightly, but she made a mental note to expand on this act at a later time. “That’s how badly I want you, Robin. Come here so I can have your mouth.” 

With a sly smile, she loosened her grip on him and crawled upward until his head lifted to take her mouth fully. She lay flat against him so he could turn her over onto her back, one arm bracing her head. He devoured her neck with kisses, murmured sweet devotions into her ear. His head lowered further until his lips found her breasts which he provided equal attention, fully enveloping them with his mouth while caressing them with his available large, strong hand. Pleasure pains shot from her nipples to her toes causing her fingers to dig into his shoulders.

“Please, Cormoran, I want you…”

“I want you, too, but if it’s okay, I’d like to touch you first,” he coaxed as he feasted on her breasts and up to her collarbone and shoulders, tracing lazily with his tongue upon returning where he began. She might explode on this attention alone as she had never felt so desired, so alive, so sexual. 

“Yes, it’s more than ok. Touch me everywhere,” she offered having melted already beneath him.

He brought his mouth to hers once more, his hand stroking hip to hip before his fingers disappeared beneath white lace. When they reached her core, drenched with pleasure, his eyes enlarged and he groaned. 

“Fucking hell, Robin,” he said surprised, but what was meant as a compliment she took as a reason to be self-conscious causing her to grab and stop his hand working on her.

“I’m sorry, is it too much?” she looked away and he hurried to reassure her.

“Not at all, darling. You’re so aroused being with me and by what we’re doing. It’s the highest compliment so the more, the better.” She released his hand, allowing him to continue. “I want to drown in you, never stopping,” he soothed.

She relaxed under his touch and returned her hand to tangle in his dark curls. Her eyes rolled back as his fingers slid between her folds, stopping to circle her most sensitive spot then lowering to circle her entrance. The little control he now felt was tethered on a single string, but he refused to give in until she was so overcome in pleasure she’d forget her name.

“Look at me, Robin,” he pleaded, but it took a moment for his voice to register. Waiting until she obeyed and locked eyes, he then slid his fingers inside her. She cried out, gripping his shoulders like an anchor, while his fingers skillfully slid in and out of her, rotating to enhance the ache already deep within. 

“Cormoran, my god, please, please Cormoran…” 

“That’s it, love, let go. Let go all over me.”

She panted and convulsed with his steady movement, but when his thumb pressed against the crown jewel of her core, she tightened around him as the shockwaves rippled through her. He watched her respond to the ecstasy he provided, the carnal awareness in her eyes, and the widening of her mouth. Her body quaked against his as her thighs tightened around his hand, hips thrusting against it until she tapered down to a slow grind.

As the climax dicipitated, her body shivered in momentary shock. She was partly frightened at her reaction, partly surprised that she could have that reaction. Taking deep breaths, she moved the hair from her face as he carefully removed his hand from her, causing another slight shudder. 

“Cormoran…nothing like it…” She was completely limp and immobile; her body glistened with sweat and satisfaction. A small smile sat on her lips, her eyes fluttering as if going in and out of consciousness.

Excellent, he thought. He kissed her nose and then watched her regain some sense. She wrapped herself around him, feeling his hardness against her drenched knickers, aching for the two to fully connect. 

“Please, I want you inside me,” she begged.

“There’s so much more I want to show you, to worship and taste every inch of your body,” he whispered in between kisses.

“We have all the time for that, but right now, please…” 

She was right and he wouldn’t deny her. He was beyond his control, nearly exploding apart from her when she came. He removed her knickers before securing himself between her legs. 

“Wait, we need…”

“Birth control. I’m on the pill even though we rarely had sex and it’s been a while since the last time, anyways…” she blushed at babbling this unnecessary explanation. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Such a fool to be ungrateful with such an extraordinary gift. I dare to deserve you and could never deny you. Enough about the past as this is us now.”

“Sounds like something out of a love letter,” she mused.

“One of many to come from me to you,” he promised in between kisses.

“Romantic,” she murmured against his lips.

He slid against her, coating himself in her liquid silk, and waited at her entrance. Gazing down at her expecting eyes and glowing smile, he slowly entered until he was fully surrounded by her, his body touching hers. Their moans competed with one another for who felt the most luxurious at that moment (it was a tie) and she tightened her legs around him to hold him still for a moment. Teasing his mouth with hers, she sought his tongue for a moment before her hips began moving against him. He joined the torturous rhythm of his length being taken and removed, each time she moaned a bit higher, a bit longer.

The pressure rose within her, every thrust magnifying her ecstasy. He nibbled on her neck and she tugged his ear lobe between her teeth, driving him even wilder to increase his movement. His hands were lost in the pool of red-gold hair as her fingers clutched his shoulders and back, sometimes his arse which she thoroughly enjoyed holding onto. 

“God, Robin, you feel so good,” Cormoran moaned against her cheek. “I want you to come for me again.”

This vocalization of his desire heightened her need even more so, something new she learned about herself with him. He leaned over her a bit further so her writhing hips could rub her core firmly against his, the friction of his base to her epicenter pushing her over the edge. Her walls tightened and her head leaned back as she fully arched against him.

“Come with me, Cormoran,” she implored.

“I will, baby, come and I’ll follow,” he panted.

I’ll go wherever you will go…

It swarmed through her like a hundred tornados wrapped in a hurricane. She catapulted into a kaleidoscope of stars, colors, and prisms. Cormoran followed as promised, his grunts dynamic and vigorous, his body pulsing inside her as he emptied. 

Both were breathless, the temperature in the room suddenly a thousand degrees; their mouths dry, their bodies wet. Neither had ever felt better before in their lives.

Twice, she recalled. He’d given her the best two orgasms of her life back-to-back. She was most definitely a changed woman. 

“Do you know your name?” he pondered with his face between her neck and pillow.

“Hmmm…?” she raised her eyebrows without opening her eyes.

Mustering the very little strength he had left, he carefully removed himself from her and collapsed onto his back. With a big hairy arm, he drew her to his side until her cheek rested against his heart still beating quickly. 

After several moments when he could congeal any form of thought, Cormoran stated, “Robin, you’ve made me the happiest and luckiest bastard in England.”

“Hmmmm,” was all she fared. He chuckled and stroked her hair with one hand, lulling her into a different form of bliss, but her mind suddenly went back to before.

When she stirred but remained silent, he noted, “Your mind is heavy once more.”

Even without him seeing her face, he just knew. She pushed herself upon his chest and looked at him, shyness recurring.

“I’m just thinking about how I’m going to make this right with my parents; the cost of the wedding and all.” He said nothing so to ease the mood she just tainted she teased, “Maybe Shanker has some side jobs I can take on for extra cash.” 

This got his attention with a firm, “Absolutely not.” This serious tone made Robin giggle so to get back at her for such an idea, he tickled her until she surrendered, turning her so he was on top of her once more. He placed his mouth over hers for a possessive yet tender kiss before parting to look into her eyes.

In a more supportive tone, he stated, “We’ll figure it out. We’re partners. We’re a team.”

Robin teared up a bit as she looked into those solemn, promising eyes. We. 

“I love you,” she declared but before he could respond, she took his mouth into a lavish kiss that soon sent his hands moving over her once more, their bodies reawakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm done in!


	7. Resonations (Original Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all is what it seemed as Robin realizes, finding herself in the present time, post-Lethal White/pre-Troubled Blood. (No spoilers)
> 
> "In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take."

Robin and Strike slept until up to the last minute before getting up to shower (separately or they’d never leave) and check out of the hotel. They made their way side-by-side to the Land Rover with their bags, smiling and gazing at one another as this was the start of a new chapter together. She raised the boot door so they could load their belongings then Strike pulled her into a strong embrace, sealing his lips to hers. Rather than devour her, he kept the kisses light and sweet, enjoying the freedom in doing so in broad daylight. 

She deserved tender and sweet and promised himself that he would ensure her receiving that at least equally if not more to the more ravishing, hungry side of their physical needs. When he pulled away, she grinned up at him lazily before nuzzling her face in his chest, breathing him in. He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so happy, Cormoran.”

Their arms tightened around each other. “Me, too, Robin Venetia Ellacott.” 

She raised her head to kiss him again which he gladly reciprocated. Suddenly, she no longer felt his lips or arms around her so she opened her eyes. 

He was not there. She blinked a few times in confusion, but he wasn’t standing before her as he was just a moment ago.

“Cormoran?”

She looked around, panic rising and her breath hitched. 

No sign of him. He just vanished.

“Where are you Cormoran Blue Strike? This isn’t funny!”

She stumbled around the Land Rover, searching every direction, not a soul in sight.

“Cormoran! Please, Cormoran! Come back to me! Please!”

Tears streamed down her face as she called his name again and again, pleading. Her surroundings slowly retracted and disappeared: the hotel and the shop across the street, like a tsunami of blackness that inched its way towards her. It swallowed up the Land Rover leaving her in a void of blackness and alone.

She closed her eyes, tears streamed down her face as she whispered his name one last time, “Cormoran.”

*****

Robin bolted straight up in bed with a sob, her hands reaching out. Confused, she looked around, forgetting where she was until her eyes adjusted to the room. It was filled with furniture that wasn’t hers amongst her suitcases and some boxes that were. She looked across the bed in which she’d been sleeping, alone. She touched her cheeks and neck, totally flushed with sweat and tears. Her hands shook as she held herself, feeling the wetness of her shirt which continued to her pajama bottoms, sticking to her under the sheets. 

The dream felt incredibly real and vivid, her body had responded to every action and word the dream contained, all of it. The sense of loss was so palpable it overwhelmed her.

I was with him…we were together…he was standing right there…if I had done what I should’ve…he wouldn’t have gone…he’d still be here…maybe…

She remembered fragments and flashes of the dream, a dream that had caused her even more heartbreak than having left her husband or the guilt she felt from playing a role and pretending or the regret she felt for not having been more honest with herself. And with Matthew and her family, and…

Cormoran.

Kicking back the duvet cover, she swung her legs over and turned on the small lamp which cast a soft glow across the room. The light soothed away the shadows as she performed a breathing exercise. A few minutes later, her heart seemed calmer even though she was still processing from the plug being pulled from her in a way she had only felt once before in her life.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth which felt swollen and rough as if it had been kissed beyond recognition. Her body felt like it had been put through the wringer and made a mental note to have a proper stretch tomorrow. As she reached for her water bottle on the nightstand, she stared at nothing in particular. 

Two weeks had passed since they laid the Chiswell case to rest and she had filed for divorce from Matthew. Now, she temporarily resided in the spare room of Nick and Ilsa who were more than happy to help when Cormoran asked on her behalf. Although these two wonderful people were his friends, both had accepted her as one of their own, insisting she stay with them until she got herself settled into a more permanent situation. It was a step up from their monthly curry get-togethers, and it felt good to finally have made some friends of her in London, even if it was through her work partner. 

This was the same room he had used to escape the press after capturing the Shacklewell Ripper. Maybe that’s why she felt so intimately close to him. She looked behind her at the empty, disheveled bed and imagined his big bulk taking up most of it, snoring away in his usual fashion. The thought brought a vague smile, then more memories from the dream then sadness.

Taking another sip of water, she replayed these detailed scenes from calling it quits at her reception, to going after Cormoran and staying with him at a hotel, to returning to London with him as partners in love. She had undone a mistake before compounding it into one of the absolute worst years of her life next to the year post-rape. Rather than continue with the charade that was her relationship to Matthew, and the phoniness and naivety of which she performed for the sake of that relationship, she embraced her true nature and left the reception – deciding firmly that it wasn’t too late.

But it was too late. She couldn’t undo any of it.

She set the water bottle back on the nightstand. If only she had the chance to do it all over again, she’d do so many things so very differently, as many people would. Of course, she did have a chance, but she didn’t take it. Well, she did make that phone call on her honeymoon, but by then it was too late, at least it wouldn’t have been had maybe he’d been the one to answer and not a strange woman. Now she gave herself a thorough and proper beat down as she couldn’t do while being under the scrutiny of Matthew. The dream made her realize the full extent of what she cost herself.

She had to make peace with these regrets and find a way forward, hopefully not mucking it all up like she already had, all for absolutely nothing. Lessons to be sure, but she still felt depleted and utterly alone, like the void the dream dropped her into before she woke. 

Cormoran.

*****

Strike’s eyes were now alert in the middle of the night, vaguely hearing his name in the distance by a voice too far to be hers. 

He hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning all night, and now he’d given up. 

The usual nagging sensation of his thoughts where he dared not tread as they concerned his work partner was rearing its head more often than before. He’d conquered many things, but this…something had to give to prevent an eventual implosion. 

Grabbing his phone off his nightstand, he looked at his texts to Robin even though they were all related to work and her moving. He gave so little and he wondered if he was checking to ensure he had done as much or to go back to fill in what he would’ve liked to have said to her. Deciding against this torment, he closed his phone and continued where he laid, staring at the ceiling. 

A strange sensation overcame him, a mixture of regret, longing, and hope. 

He should’ve fucking asked her to leave with him on those goddamn steps. 

*****

Cormoran. I love Cormoran. 

She pressed the heel of one hand to her aching heart and raised the other to cover her mouth as she cried. The tears came in a way that only pain from the deep recesses of one’s heart could convey; like when she cried returning to Masham after dropping out of Uni; like when she cried when finding out that Matthew had cheated on her with Sarah as she dealt with the aftermath of her rape; like when she cried after being sacked. Like she did two days before her wedding…then the day before…then the morning of…till nothing was left. 

Then he showed up at her wedding.

She had been so foolish, so blind. There was nothing to undo such mistakes and the powerless consumed her. 

The tears continued, her sobs muffled by her knuckles. Once subsided, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through the texts from Strike, mostly about work with the occasional check-in text about how she was settling at Nick and Ilsa’s. 

More than anything at the moment she wanted to hear his voice, but it was in the middle of the night and she’d be an idiot to phone him at this hour unless it was an emergency. Besides, she would see him the following morning to begin another work week. 

Since calling him wasn’t an option, she replayed some of his old voicemails before lying back down. 

With his voice fresh in her mind, she closed her eyes and drifted into an enchanted slumber. Here she dreamt of a red-gold robin happily chirping and flying about the head of a grinning Cornish giant.

“You finally found me, my lovely robin,” said the giant warmly from his perch on a hilltop overlooking the sea. 

The small bird chirped ecstatically before resting on his shoulder, sharing the peace and tranquility brought by each other’s company, the sea, and a glowing sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me have a proper cry. We all have at least one regret and I'm sure we've all sacrificed something we really wanted for something that didn't mean nearly as much. But we make a choice based on what we know and feel at the time. That's why hindsight is 20/20.
> 
> How sweet an image is the ending though? Seriously, any artist reading this that can draw up this image would be a blessing!


	8. Resolutions (The Alternate/Happier Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternate and happier ending than the original one.
> 
> Fluffy stuff as Strike and Robin return to London, happy ‘beginning’…
> 
> It's 2020 and that's been hard enough so here's a little break.

Robin and Strike slept until up to the last minute before getting up to shower (separately or they’d never leave) and check out of the hotel. They made their way side-by-side to the Land Rover with their bags, smiling and gazing at one another as this was the start of a new chapter together. She raised the boot door so they could load their belongings then Strike pulled her into a strong embrace, sealing his lips to hers. Rather than devour her, he kept the kisses light and sweet, enjoying the freedom in doing so in broad daylight. 

She deserved tender and sweet and promised himself that he would ensure her receiving that at least equally if not more to the more ravishing, hungry side of their physical needs. When he pulled away, she grinned up at him lazily before nuzzling her face in his chest, breathing him in. He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so happy, Cormoran.”

Their arms tightened around each other. “Me, too, Robin Venetia Ellacott.” 

They reluctantly pulled apart and she patted his chest. “Meet you up front.” She winked at him and disappeared on the driver’s side as he walked to the passenger side. Once the LR came to life, she drove across to the same shop Shanker perused the previous night for snacks and the largest possible coffee. They had kept each other up most of the night and required all the caffeine in the world for the several hours it would take to get back to London. 

Strike enjoyed a cigarette before settling back into the passenger seat as he watched Robin organize their purchases, ensuring they had all they needed for the trip. He loved her tidiness and organization along with her thoughtfulness in keeping him fed on road trips. Although she wasn’t looking at him, he still smiled at her through the glass, wondering how this was happening and how’d he get so damn lucky? 

“We’ll stop for a proper breakfast along the way. I’ve barely eaten anything in the last forty-eight hours,” she realized, despite never feeling better yet knowing the snacks wouldn’t hold either of them over till they were home.

They exchanged smiles or caught each other’s sideways glances as they traveled. At one point, Strike placed a hand on her knee and squeezed. Once they parked near a café, she pulled him to her for a proper snog. Eventually, they went inside to enjoy a hearty breakfast and left with takeaway coffees. 

“I didn’t mean for us to rush, but the sooner we return, the sooner we get the agency back to rights,” she stated matter-of-factly. Strike looked slightly disappointed until she added, “And the sooner you can take me back to bed.”

She blushed at the darkening of his eyes and his comment of, “That’s a priority as the agency can hold off a day or two.” 

Strike, too, was impatient to return to London where they would be on their turf once again and she could be in his arms once more. He just wanted to cocoon with her for a few days and forget the world existed.

Robin was relieved their thoughts aligned, but she also had to add the task of sorting her living situation before Matthew returned from “their” honeymoon. While she internally planned and drove, Strike fell asleep against the window, his snores emanating. The sound was a proper compliment to her for he trusted her driving so much that he was able to fall into such a slumber. She never took that trust for granted as that particular trust, which he offered no other, gave her great pride and satisfaction.

As they neared London, Strike roused, grumbled, taking in his surroundings having lost track of time. “How long was I out?”

“Two hours,” Robin smiled. “You needed it. We’ll be home in less than 30 minutes.”

Home, he mused. Did she mean Denmark Street that encompassed their office and his flat? Her flat? Or London as a whole? Oh, what the bloody hell did it matter?

He checked his phone and read a text from Shanker.

“Shanker says several reporters are posted outside the office wanting comments on the Shacklewell Ripper.” He typed a response then sent a text to his childhood friend, Ilsa.

“My mum texted me earlier that they’ve been getting a lot of calls from reporters looking to talk to me about it,” she shared. “We’ve probably got a few hundred messages to sift through from all this. This is our boomerang into the agency rising once more.” She raised a triumphant fist in the air and he nodded, thankful this woman landed on his doorstep and he hadn’t sent her tumbling down the stairs. 

“First thing to figure out is shelter. Office and my flat are off-limits for this week at least,” he stopped there not wanting to presume anything on Robin’s behalf as far as her living situation which still currently had all her possessions in a flat shared with her ex-fiancé. 

“I’m pretty good on not having to be at my current address right away since my bags are already packed for a two week stay out of the country. Once they flitter off, I can get that part sorted in more privacy.”

Strike simply stated, “Looks like we need to find a place to lay low.”

“Where do you suggest we go? A hotel for that long would be a stretch not having any paid clients in a month…” she scrunched her face and thought as the London skyline came into view.  
Strike’s phone pinged.

**Omg omg omg! You and Robin? And all it took was a serial killer to finally bring you round. Ha! Well, that’s a positive…anyhoo, Nick and I are in Italy – he surprised me with a trip so we’ll be here for the week. You have an extra key to our place so feel free to make it your own…and Robin’s. Eek! I’m so happy and can’t wait to hear all about it when we return! Stay safe. – Ilsa xxxxx**

“Problem solved and even better it’s free: Nick and Ilsa’s. They’re conveniently out of the country for the week so that will be our temporary home base. I mean, you are invited to stay, too, since Ilsa knows we are, ah, together. You don’t have to, of course, not deciding for you…” He stuttered and looked away. God, he was crap at this. Naturally, Robin took it all in stride and ignored how cute and vulnerable he could be when flustered.

“Sounds like I get a bit of a honeymoon after all.” Her tongue touched her top lip and she threw him a flirty glance before returning attention to the traffic.

“That is one way to look at it, I suppose. I’d rather take you someplace proper,” he started regretfully, “but as you said with the business having been sabotaged from paying clients…” He trailed off as he began to feel a familiar sense of shame and failure he felt with Charlotte who never ceased to point out his inability to provide due to a lack of income while also claiming that money meant nothing to her.

Robin shook her head. “Cormoran, that doesn’t matter so long as I’m with you.” 

Way up high or down low, I’ll go wherever you will go…

Just like that, the remote sense of shame he began to feel evaporated, replaced by the sincerity of her statement. “It will make it a bit tricky for me to get my kit bag, laptop, and the files we were working on before all this.”

“Is Shanker still hanging about? He could create an interesting diversion so we can get all that.”

Strike laughed and grabbed her hand to kiss the back of it as he once did after offering her a partnership in his agency. “Yet another reason why you make the best partner, Ellacott.”

*****

Once safely tucked away in Nick and Ilsa’s home, Robin made tea while Strike removed his prosthesis to make himself more comfortable on the couch. She brought two mugs and handed him one before snuggling beside him, his outstretched arm across the back of the couch lowering to enfold her.

“The next forty-eight hours are just ours and no work, agreed?” She gazed at him over her mug and he gently tapped his mug to hers.

“Agreed though I wager you break before then,” he chuckled into his mug and she turned to give him a most appalling look.

“That’s rich coming from you so I counter your wager,” she playfully stated. 

“Place a bet?” he eyed her mischievously.

“You’re on! Although, I’ll have to think on the consequences for I’m not entirely sure what you and I won’t do for each other,” 

“Now who’s a romantic?”

Robin blushed and looked away causing Strike’s eyes to narrow.

“Hold up…you already checked the messages, didn’t you?”

She still didn’t meet his eyes but said sheepishly, “Yeah, while you were in the shower.”

“At the hotel? You lost the wager before it even began, woman!” He teased and she finally looked at him and shrugged. “But I do love your dedication. Still, that’s cause for an automatic consequence of my choosing,” he stated as he kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck.

“What bidding shall I do, good sir?” she pressed into him as his lips came to her mouth.

“View me like your only client for the next two days and maybe that’ll trick your brain into thinking you are working,” he suggested.

“Ok then, Mr. Strike, how can I help you?” her lips curved as she spoke professionally.

“Just sit with me for a while and the rest will come as we please and see fit.” She smiled and settled back against him. He kissed her temple and she sighed, both sharing the comfortable silence in total peace and fulfillment. 

They needed proper rest and wanted time to purely enjoy this new beginning without the pressures of friends, family, exes, clients, or a thousand small life demands. It was theirs and would remain so until they were ready to announce it to the world.

Outside of Nick and Ilsa, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely more pleasant and if only...
> 
> Time will tell if this dynamic duo will find their mutual peace and happiness in one another beyond a working partnership.


End file.
